His Angel
by blooming-into-a-wallflower
Summary: No spoilers! But suffice to say, Dean not only wakes up with a hangover, but something is terribly wrong. Destiel. Angsty and sad, but with a happy ending because I love them. Rated T because I'm not sure what I'm doing.


**A/N:** **Hello and thank you for clicking! This isn't the first fanfiction I've written, though it is the first Destiel and the first one I've ever posted online (Both on Tumblr and here). So! Please be gentle with me, lovely people. I hope you like and if you think I should write more, please tell me! Suggestions for other pairings are welcome too~ This was written for the lovely x-askdeanwinchester-x (Whom you should totally follow on Tumblr.)  
Diclaimer- I own none of these amazing characters~  
**

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Clearlake, Missouri. The "you are now entering," sign passed by, blending in with the falling darkness. After hours of driving and the recent loss of radio signal, Dean was relieved to have finally made it to their destination even though he still had no idea what he and Sam were up against in this small ass town. Now all they needed to do was find some cheap motel, get a room, and then find some food. His stomach growled at the thought. They could find out what they were hunting in the morning, food had to come first. Dean stopped at the first motel he that caught his eye, a bright blue neon vacancy sign hanging in the window of the office. And, for added bonus, there was a bar right across the street. He parked, shutting off the engine before glancing at his brother who had fallen asleep somewhere along the way.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty." He said, shoving Sam awake roughly. The younger man blinked groggily before shaking his head and sitting up straighter. "We there yet?" He asked, slowly becoming more lucid. "Yeah. And I need you to go check in." Sam rolled his eyes but willingly got out, stretching with grunt before walking into the office. Dean remained sitting in the Impala, fiddling with the radio and hopping there'd be a signal now that they'd reached some sort of civilization. Instead of the classic rock he loved so much, the sound of wings filled the car for a brief moment, audible over the static coming from the speakers. Without looking up from his task, Dean knew who now occupied the passenger seat. "Did you call shot gun?" He asked the trench coat wearing angel without looking at him. Castiel ignored the question, jumping straight to his reason for appearing. "Dean, be careful. I feel like something isn't quite right with this situation. It's definitely not good." The hunter snorted, finally giving up on the radio and looking up to meet the blue eyes that were focused on him intently. Was that worry he saw? "When has anything ever been good, Cas? I know how to handle crap like this." The angel gave him a you-know-what-I-mean look. "Just don't do anything stupid, Dean. I don't want to see you hurt." And then the angel disappeared with the sound of wings once again filling the car for a second. "God damn it, Cas. I hate when you do that!" He shouted even though he was once again alone. The angel really knew how to annoy him, though he always found himself wanting Cas to stay around longer.

A tap on the window made him turn, green eyes widening a fraction. Sam dangled a pair of motel keys from his finger, a funny look crossing his features. "Were you yelling at someone?" He asked as Dean opened the door. "Cas. The bastard poofs in with a warning and then just vanishes." The elder Winchester stretched and walked to the back of the Impala and opened the trunk, obviously annoyed. Sam nodded knowingly in response. He was aware that Dean and the angel had an interesting relationship and he'd learned to not bring it up less he was willing to suffer the wrath of a Dean in denial. The two made their way into their room and began what seemed almost like a standard routine when it came to settling in. Dean tossed his bag on the bed he claimed as his while Sam slipped his laptop out and plugged it in to charge, tossing his bag into the chair next to it. They weren't able to do much else before Dean's stomach let out an almost inhuman growl. "C'mon Sammy, I'm craving a double bacon cheese burger with chili fries and a beer." He all but begged, ushering the other out of the room and in the direction of the bar which had better have bacon cheese burgers.

The bar did have double bacon cheese burgers and hot waitresses, much to Dean's immense pleasure. They even had rabbit food for Sam. A sign above the bar caught Dean's attention as he waited for his food. Apparently the bar was 'famous' for its drinking challenge and if you drank all the drinks in the set amount of time, you'd get a t-shirt and a picture on the wall of fame. Sam followed Dean's gaze and snorted. "Seriously?" Dean turned to look at him. "Something wrong, Sam?" He asked. The other raised an eyebrow. "You're not thinking about doing that, are you?" Dean crossed his arms defensively. "And what if I am?" He honestly hadn't thought about it. Much. But now he was reconsidering. "Come on, Dean. You're not…" Sam let the thought drop without finishing. "I'm not what?" He sighed. "That challenge was probably meant for stupid college kids passing through. And you're… Well. You're not a young college kid." He hadn't meant to say young; it just sort of slipped out. Dean narrowed his eyes, "I guess I'll just have to prove that an old man like me can do it, then." He pushed away from the table and stood, walking to the bar as Sam sighed behind in frustration. "This is a stupid idea…"  
-

Dean groaned. "Son of a bitch…" His head spun as he swung his feet over the edge of the old motel bed, the ancient springs in the mattress creaking ominously. The pain was worse when he opened eyes to the sunlight streaming through the threadbare curtains. Getting thrown across the room by a ghost and smashing his head against a brick wall felt better than this, in all honesty. He didn't usually get hangovers; but he'd woken up with one that would put every other one he'd suffered to shame. But hell, it had been worth it. He could recall the busty blonde waitress's impressed look when he'd downed that last shot and thrown his hands in the air, basking in his rightfully earned glory. And he now had the t-shirt to prove it. Screw what Sam said, Dean still had it in him. He chuckled but winced when the action inflicted another splitting pain in his head.

Speaking of Sam, where was he? Dean stifled another groan as he pushed himself into a standing position. His stomach flopped and the contents within threatened to make a reappearance. Shoving the feeling down, he called out for Sam. "Sam?" His voice sounded hoarse. "Yo, Sammy! Where the hell are you?" He remembered Sam all but carrying him back from the bar last night, smirking like a bitch and telling him he'd deserve the hangover he'd get in the morning. But looking around brought a frown on confusion to his lips. It was almost as if Sam hadn't even been in the room. His laptop was no longer sitting on the table where he'd left it to charge before going out and his backpack was absent from the chair he'd slung it into. And the most noticeable difference- No Sam. Where the hell was he? Dean's stomach did another flip, but not because of his hangover. Something obviously wasn't right. It wasn't like Sam to just vanish without even a note. That is, when some demon bitch wasn't dragging him off to sleazy motels and feeding him her blood. But Ruby was dead. And Sam was completely detoxed. So why wasn't he there? Dean grabbed his cell phone and pressed it on, staring at the black screen too long before finally realizing. It was dead. He hadn't remembered to plug it in to the charger because he'd been too drunk off his ass to do anything other than collapse into bed.

Tossing the useless piece of technology back onto the dresser, Dean walked to the bathroom, ignoring his blood shot green eyes as he stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He reached down and twisted the sink on, cupping a handful of lukewarm water which he preceded to splash into his face. After several handfuls that brought him into a deeper state of wakefulness, he turned the water off and blindly reached for a towel, scrubbing his face dry until it stung. Tossing the towel onto the floor, he glanced at his reflection again. Not much of an improvement but he did feel more awake than before. He brushed his teeth to rid his mouth of the God awful taste that had came with being hungover. He still felt like shit, but shit that hadn't been stepped in and scuffed across a bar floor. He stared into the mirror for awhile longer; half hopping a certain angel who didn't quite grasp the concept of personal space would appear. But Cas's familiar face never showed and Dean went to change clothes more worried than before. If something was wrong with Sam, he knew Cas would pop in and tell him what was going on.

There was still no sign of Sam or Cas twenty minutes later when Dean emerged from the motel room and walked toward the Impala. Which thankfully had not disappeared along with what seemed like everyone else he cared about. But when he reached into his pocket to find his keys… "Are you fucking kidding me?" He never lost his keys! In fact, he'd just put them into his pocket before leaving the motel. Backtracking his steps proved a fruitless effort as did his frantic search of the motel room. Whatever was going on was seriously pissing him off. He sighed and rested his forehead against the driver's side window of the Impala. A flash of metal from inside the car caught his attention. Oh, hell no. This was not happening. The keys he'd just lost were sitting in the ignition. And the doors were still locked. Could things get any worse? Dean had a feeling they would. After all the experience he had, he just knew.

Getting in to the locked Impala took first priority, pushing finding Sam and Cas to second on his list. He knew quite a few tricks to getting into locked cars and none of them was he willing to try on his baby. His lock picks along with every other helpful tool were locked in the trunk, inaccessible without the keys. Jesus. Where were Sam and Cas when he really needed them? Cas could poof himself into the car with his angel mojo and unlock it from the inside. But Cas wasn't there and Dean was left with one drastic option. "I can't believe I'm doing this…" he sighed as he shrugged out of his coat. His green eyes were filled with remorse as he wrapped the fabric around his fist. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered just as he pulled back his arm and let the punch fly. The sound of shattered glass filled the air. In Dean's opinion, it was a sound similar to that of a heart breaking. His heart. He reached in and unlocked the door, brushing the shattered glass off the seat on to the cracked pavement outside before sliding inside. "I'm sorry," he murmured again as he twisted the keys in the ignition, expecting the familiar purr of the engine as a sign a forgiveness.

What he got was a small sputter and then nothing. He tried again only to receive the same results. "No. Baby, no. Come on…" he urged, twisting the key for a third time. There wasn't even a sputter. The engine was dead. He slammed his palms against the steering wheel in a mix of frustration and anger. "When I get my hands on the bastard who did this…" His threat trailed off as Dean got out of the Impala, keys firmly in hand. He opened the trunk, filling his backpack with a variety of weapons. He wanted to be ready to kill whatever it was that caused all of this. He'd make the SOB pay. No one messes with baby.

Cas's earlier words came back to haunt him as he walked down the street. The angel's warning played in his head. "Dean, be careful. I feel like something isn't quite right with this situation. It's definitely not good," which was followed by "just don't do anything stupid, Dean. I don't want to see you hurt." And Dean had gone and done something stupid in the end. So maybe he'd had a point. But some of the blame could be placed on Cas's shoulders too. Perhaps if he'd stayed around long enough to elaborate, none of this would be happening. Dean sighed; it was no use placing the blame on anyone especially since no one was around to argue their case. "Cas… Where are you, buddy?" He said quietly, wishing the angel would just poof by his side already. He found himself missing Cas, nerdiness and all. Their bond was a strong one and even Dean couldn't deny the attraction he felt when it came to the blue-eyed angel. Though try he did. But that only served to make it all the more obvious. Cas, on the other hand, was a harder one to read. He only looked mildly confused when Sam hinted at an innuendo or made a show of leaving him alone with Dean in a motel.

With the angel still on his mind, Dean almost didn't notice the flash of a trench coat turning down an alley up a head. Almost. "Cas!" He was certain it was him, after all, who else would wear a trench coat in ninety degree weather? Dean gave chase, bolting past clueless people and down the alley. "Hey! Cas! Will you stop, already?" He shouted as Castiel turned right and disappeared. Only, when Dean reached the stop where the angel had vanished, he found himself facing a dead end. "What the hell?" He swore, frowning at the brick wall in confusion. It wasn't the first time Cas had vanished without warning, but Dean hadn't even heard the flutter of wings that came with the angel's departures and arrivals. His heart squeezed and he punched the wall. Where the hell was Cas? And what the hell was going on?

The hunter turned away from the wall after having thoroughly vented his anger on it at the cost of bruised knuckles and came face to face with a blue eyed gift from God. "Speak of the devil…" He sighed, pulling the angel in close and burying his face in his messy hair. "I'm not Lucifer, Dean." Cas's voice was muffled by Dean's shoulder. He pulled back, his arms still wrapped loosely about the other's waist and a small grin curving the corners of his lips. "Forget that, I'm relieved to see you. Have you seen Sam?" Although finding Cas was a huge rock of his chest, Sam was still out there somewhere and he might just need help. The expression in Cas's eyes darkened. "Dean none of this is real. The waitress at the bar last night was a Djinn. I told you not to do anything stupid. And yet-" Suddenly Cas was torn from Dean's embrace and sent flying back against the brick wall. His head smacked against the brick with a painful sound before his limb body slid to the garbage littered ground.

Dean rushed toward him but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Dean. Don't. That isn't Castiel." That voice… "Sam?" He pulled away from the hand on his shoulder, turning to face his brother. "What the hell do you mean it's not Cas?" Sam shook his head, sighing. "Just listen, you know how he said that this was a nightmare caused my Djinn. It is. And that over there," he pointed at the limp angel, "is part of the nightmare." Dean glanced back at the supposed Cas. He was torn. Who to believe: Sam or Cas? His brother or his angel? But wait- "Sam. How the hell are you here if this is all in my head?" Why hadn't he noticed this before? There was no way Sam could be here. And there was no way that he'd be able to throw Cas like that without touching him. Sam smirked, eyes turning black. "A very good question, Dean…" He murmured right before something hit Dean in the back of the head, causing darkness to claim everything as the hunter fell to the ground.

He woke up with a splitting headache for the second time that day, groaning as his eyes opened. Though unlike last time, he wasn't assaulted by blinding early morning light. The warehouse he now found himself in was dark, light barely passing through grim covered windows. What surprised him the most was that he wasn't tied up in any way. He pushed himself up with a grunt, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Movement from the corner of his eye proved that he wasn't completely alone. Cas. He spun around, regretting the action when he nearly fell on his ass from dizziness. Somehow Dean managed to remain upright though he might have stumbled a little. When he regained his balance, Dean walked over to the prone angel, not caring if he was only part of some dream. Cas was Cas, real or not. Upon drawing closer, Dean was forced to stop, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. Wings. He could see the angel's fucking wings. On instinct Dean dropped to his knees and reached out to touch one of the beautiful ebony feathers but quickly yanked his hand back when the touch caused the angel to jolt awake and leap to his feet.

"Dean?" Cas's face wrinkled in confusion as he surveyed their surrounding just as Dean had when he'd woken up. "Where are we?" The hunter shook his head, still in shock from the wings that protruded from Castiel's back. "I have no idea. But Cas… You have wings." The angel didn't even blink an eye. "Of course I have wings. I'm an angel Dean, if you'd forgotten." Dean gave his head a shake. Right. Of course angels had wings. He shouldn't be too shocked over the matter. But nonetheless, it didn't change that fact that he was.

"I'm glad to see that you two are finally awake," the not-Sam appeared out of nowhere walking toward them with a smirk curving his lips. Dean instinctively pushed Cas behind him, earning an exasperated "Dean," in return. Not-Sam raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "How cute. You really love your little pet angel don't you, Dean? A pity you can't protect him." Dean suddenly found himself chained to a wall, unable to move, Cas stood frozen in the same place Dean had shoved him. "Who the hell are you?" He spat, struggling against his bonds. "You're not Sam, that's for sure." Not-Sam applauded him sarcastically, "you're right. I'm not Sam." Dean continued his struggles, not taking his eyes away from the smirking bastard. "Then who the hell are you?" Suddenly, Dean found himself face to face with himself. "I'm you."

Green eyes held green eyes as Dean stared Dean. "You see, Dean…" started not-Dean. "I am you. I know what makes that little mind of yours tick. And I know what you fear. You fear that those you love and care about will die before your eyes while you sit by, powerless to help them." Suddenly Cas screamed as an invisible whip lashed across his chest, tearing his clothes and cutting into skin. Dean renewed his struggled while not-Dean chuckled. "But you know what you fear most of all? You fear being the one who actually causes their deaths." And then Dean saw himself out there, brandishing the whip that caused blood and feathers to fly in the air. Castiel's screams made tears spring to the hunter's eyes. "No. NO!" He fought against the chains until blood dripped down his wrists. This was exactly what hell had been like- No. It was worse. Worse because the one on the other side of the whip was someone he cared for, someone he loved. The other Dean had been right; this really was his greatest fear. Dean watched the scene before him for what felt like hours, never giving up the struggle to break free until he could no longer.

As all fight left the hunter, a blindingly brilliant light filled the room followed by the scream of not-Dean. The light disappeared just as quickly as it had come and Dean found himself on his feet once more, all injuries healed. Cas's body lay on the ground, still bloodied and barely breathing. Dean gently picked the angel up, cradling him in his arms. "Oh, Cas…" His eyes burned with tears that he no longer tried to hold back. The angel's voice came out as a whisper. "Dean… Not your fault. None of this… was your fault." His bright blue eyes were dulled with pain. Of course Dean blamed himself. How could he not? "Cas," it came out as a sob, "don't go. Please. You can't die now." Castiel reached up one bloodied hand and gently wiped at the tears that streamed down Dean's cheeks. "I love you," he whispered just as his final breath passed his lips, his hand fell limply to the ground, making a tiny splash in the puddle of his blood. The only thing that could be heard in the warehouse was Dean's heart wrenching sobs and the flutter of wings. "I love you too, Cas." He whispered, pressing a kiss to his already cold cheek. "You're my angel."

"Dean." Oh great. Now he was hearing Cas's voice. His heart clenched and several more tears fell. Would the nightmare ever end? Dean closed his eyes, trying to force himself awake. "Dean!" A smack to the back of his head sent him falling forward right on to… clean concrete. Well, clean as concrete that once had blood, feathers, and a dead angel lying on it could ever be. Where had the blood gone? And Cas? "What the hell?" He looked over his shoulder, eyes widening in shock.

Cas stood, very much alive, with the hand that had smacked Dean still extended in the air. "You wouldn't listen to me. I had to do something." The angel offered instead of an apology. "Cas…" Dean murmured his name, rising to his feet. After all that had happened he wasn't quite sure to believe what he was seeing. Cas took a step forward, reaching for Dean, but the hunter took a step back, holding up a hand in warning. "How do I know you're really you? You could just be a part of the damn nightmare." The blue-eyed angel sighed, pulling his outreached arm to his side. "Dean. How can I prove that I'm the real me? Do you honestly believe a few smacks with a whip would be enough to kill me?" Now he almost sounded indignant and Dean couldn't help but allow a smile to curve his lips. He closed the distance between them, hugging the other tightly to his chest. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he was certain this was the real Cas. His angel.

The hug went on for several moments before Cas forced himself to pull away. "Dean, I need to kiss you." The green-eyed hunter did a double take at that. "Of course you can kiss me, Cas. But why are you asking now?" "Because, like I said before this is a nightmare. And I think if I kiss you, you'll wake up." Dean scoffed at the idea, but what the hell, Cas seemed serious about the idea so why not give it a try. Before Dean could respond, he found the angel's lips on his, warm and sweet. He melted into the kiss, returning it just as gently as it was given.

The sound of feathers filled the air and Dean became aware of creaky motel bed springs underneath him. The kiss between him and Cas broke as the angel pulled away. "A kiss, huh?" Dean raised an eyebrow, noting the slight blush that darkened Castiel's face. The angel met his gaze, "doesn't true love's kiss break every spell?" Now it was Dean's turn to blush. Sam chuckled from behind them, a knowing smile on his face. "No more fairytales for the angel," he grumbled, glaring at his brother but pulling his angel close. Perhaps he'd never know why the kiss had brought him back from the nightmare, or how Cas had even managed to appear there in the first place. But one thing he was curious about was how the hell Cas had managed to keep a straight face while saying the thing about true love's kiss. However, for now he was content with holding his very much alive angel in his arms. Even with Sam throwing I-knew-it glances there way every so often.


End file.
